


handful of dust

by misskatieleigh



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-24
Updated: 2008-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 19:47:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/815345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not a whole lot of plot here, just a glimpse at the difference between earth and the realities of life in the Pegasus galaxy. Possible sentient sand, running for your life, showering off the fear that’s etched into your skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	handful of dust

**Author's Note:**

> moving old stuff from LJ, sorry if you read this ages ago

  
_And I will show you something different from either your shadow at morning striding behind you or your shadow at evening rising to meet you; I will show you fear in a handful of dust. ~ T.S. Eliot_

 

Dust.

It was nothing more than innocent, white, shifting sand beneath their feet; harmless, unless the winds picked up. Once a season, Teyla had warned a million miles ago; home. She had said, “If the winds pick up, run.” Ronon was silent, nothing new, but he watched the sand with wary eyes, saw the first hint of dust lifting up on the suggestion of a breeze. They ran then, running for their lives like so many times before, military issue boots slipping as the ground fell away to a chasm below, beckoning them down. Leading them under the sand, another speck of dust to run over the landscape like the bones of those before.

They ran, hands reaching out to pull the other along, the pull of fingertips at Rodney’s back, on his palm – intimate as a kiss. Keep moving, get home, stay _alive_. Promises whispered through the screen of silt rising behind them like a wave – a tsunami preparing for the crash. A world racing to claim back the dust clinging to their clothes and skin.

Shifting sand gave way to metal, familiar comfort of home jarring up the length of his spine – the ‘jumper lifting off the ground before the door had even slid closed. The wind howled, pulled back at them, but John’s will was stronger, their hands were stronger, tangled together even with the rage of the storm locked tight outside by technology that knew them by touch. Tangled together as John dialed home, their hearts slowing from racing beat to soft cadence.

 

***************

Rodney tugged his uniform off slowly, his lip curling up in disdain at the pile of sand rapidly accumulating on his bathroom floor, the grit of the planet sticking to him like a sheet of salt, a thin coating across the surface of his skin. He scratched finger and thumb down his arm, a spray of white dust shimmering off into the atmosphere. Tired, he imagined the sand growing, sentient at his feet, still pulling them back toward that empty chasm void of air and light and life. He could picture it dragging him down the hall, a curl slipping out to find John, Teyla, Ronon as it edged closer to the blue ripple of the gate.

The shower poured down behind him, steam billowing out to kiss over his shoulders. Streaks of water dripped down, stealing through the white layer to reveal the pale truth of his skin beneath. Rodney closed his eyes and stepped back into the water, the streaks of water giving way to a flood that raced over his skin, washing the itch and ache of grit down the drain, washing the clenching terror out of the hollow of his chest.

Warm hands slid over his chest without warning, water twisting off course to navigate over the press of skin on skin. Rodney tilted his head down, letting the hands slide up from shoulder to neck, sifting through the hair plastered to his scalp, gentle press and release that pulled the ache from him slowly, his blood pulsing to match the rhythm. He opened his eyes, watched the water swirling around their feet – his feet and John’s - set together like puzzle pieces sodden from the rain, each stance bracketing the other.

Rodney reached out his hands, fingers that could do so much reduced to the slide of palm over John’s hips, proving reality by touch. John moved closer in increments, closing the distance in a pattern of push and pull – like he was a skittish horse calming to his rider’s touch. Finally they were touching, chest to chest, hands tangling together palm to palm, life broken down to the pulse in their wrists hidden under delicate skin. Rodney looked up, his mouth a twisted line where the water poured over him, John a blur behind the curtain. He tipped forward, seeking up for the final point of contact, mouths closing together with salt on their tongues. Until the ground stayed solid beneath their feet, their fear a pile of dust tipped out onto the bathroom floor.  
_  
_


End file.
